20 Questions
"Owwww"
"JOSH!!!"
Our voices echo through my quiet office.
I rub my head as I turn around to see what I hit it on and why Donna is
yelling at me. One glance at her and I have my answers. I was sitting at my desk reading my email,
Donna was standing behind me. Apparently with a cup of coffee in her hand. The coffee is now down the front of the
sweatshirt she's wearing, my sweatshirt, by the way. And the coffee wasn't in a nice sytrofoam
cup; no it was in an industrial weight ceramic mug from the mess. Hence the nice lump that is forming on the
back of my head.
"Are you ok, did you get burned?" I ask as I jump out of my seat.
"No, it wasn't that hot. But
that was the last shirt in your secret stash," she moans as she holds
soggy shirt out and away from her skin.
She's exhausted and a little cranky.
We never did get to dance at the ball, any of them.
"I've been meaning to restock my closet with spare clothes but haven't
gotten around to doing it. Why don't you go down to the locker room and grab a
bathrobe?" I suggest as I sit back down, suddenly a little dizzy.
She's by my side in an instant.
"You ok?" she asks as she moves my hand out of the way to feel
the lump.
"Yeah, I think I just hit my head a little harder than I
thought."
"You want some ice?"
I nod a little trying not to move my head too much.
"I'll just wear this," she says as she leaves the room. I just nod, having no idea what she found to
wear. I turn my chair around and prop my
feet up on the desk. It's almost 4 in
the morning but I am wide awake, pumped full of coffee, Hershey kisses and
adrenaline. We spent a few hours in the
Oval Office earlier. Donna hung out in
my office, grabbing a short nap. I told
her to go home but she wouldn't. So were
been working the phones for a while, trying to get a handle on how the
President's decision is going to be received.
Since it's almost 4 not too many people are eager to chat on the phone
so we've hit a lull. Which is why I was
reading my email in the first place.
I close my eyes and try to relax while I wait for Donna to return. I hope
she brings more coffee along with ice for my head.
"Josh, Josh, wake up."
I rub my eyes and open them a little. I blink a few times trying to decide
if I'm really seeing what I think I'm seeing.
I see Donna standing in front of me, wearing my tuxedo shirt and
jeans. It's a dream come true. Well, in the dream she's usually wearing the
shirt and stilettos.
"Owww."
The ice pack just hit me square in the chest. Guess I'm not dreaming.
"Josh, put it on your head," she smirks as she sits down in my
visitors chair and props her feet up too. She pushes a mug of coffee towards
me.
"Thanks,"
"So why didn't you just call me?"
"Huh?" I ask as I'm savoring the nice hot coffee.
"Earlier. Why didn't you just
call me?"
"You would have looked at the Caller ID and not answered the
phone."
"Probably."
"So I yelled once and then started throwing snowballs. Not the most
mature method but hey, it worked. You
did come to the window."
"True."
"What made you change your mind about coming to the balls?" I
ask, curious to know what finally swayed her into coming. "Not that we actually got to enjoy any
of them." I add.
She shrugs, "I don't know."
I can see her blushing even in the dark room.
"Come on, tell me," I prod gently.
"It was what you said," she whispers.
"What did I say?"
"What is this---20 questions?” she teases as she fiddle with the cuffs
on the shirt.
"Could be."
"When you told me I looked---amazing."
"You did look amazing. You d-do look amazing." I stutter.
"You looked pretty amazing yourself."
"So what about Jack?"
"What about him?"
"You going to see him again?"
"Not in the near future. But
that's ok."
"He wasn't Mr. Right?"
She laughs, "No, he was pretty much Mr. Right Now."
My turn to blush, "OK, too much information." I manage to squeak
out.
"Sorry. So what about you. All the single girls in DC and you couldn't
get a date for the ball?"
"Hey I tried to get a date. But
she wanted to sit home and throw herself a pity party," I tease.
"Me, you wanted to take m?
After what I did?"
"Or didn't do," I say, correcting her.
"Whatever, that's not the point.
You wanted to go with me?"
"Well, you were holding the tickets," I say, desperately trying
to think of a way to steer the conversation in another direction. We are heading for dangerous territory.
I think she feels the same way, given the fact that all of the sudden she's
fidgeting in her seat. "So how did
you end up bringing Charlie, Danny, Will and Toby with you to my place?"
"Well, at first it was just Charlie and I. We have this bond you see.."
"You and Charlie have a bond?"
"Yeah, we're both trying to....never mind. Anyway, Danny caught up with us, then Toby
followed and we invited Will to make him feel like part of the group. Plus I was going for Good Cop/Bad Cop and I
needed some bad cops."
"They were the bad cops?" she snorts in a very unlady like
fashion.
"Well, we had a little to drink before we came over."
"Gee, I couldn't tell," she laughs as she stands up and goes to
look out the window. "It's snowing
again," she says.
I get up and stand next to her. I
can still smell her perfume from earlier, but now it's mixed with my cologne
that's lingering on my shirt. A heady
combination. Wonder if she's noticed it
too.
I move to stand behind her, trying to decide if giving into my urge to hug
her is a good idea or not. When she
takes half a step back to lean into me I think my question has been answered. I
wrap my arms around her waist and rest my chin on her shoulder. I can see her reflection in the window and
she's got that shy smile on her face.
The same one she had when I told her she looked amazing.
"Can I ask you something?"
"Sure." she whispers as she wraps her arms around mine and pulls
me closer to her.
"Why didn't you stop to think about your job?"
She flinches and tries to move away but I'm holding her where she is, for
now.
"My job isn't that important."
"How can you say that?"
"I'm just an assistant."
"You’re not. And you know
that. Donna, I don't know where I would
be without you. And you know that
too. You're more than an assistant. And if I could change that title I
would."
"I know."
"It's just...I have trouble convincing myself that what I do is
worthwhile, that it makes a difference.
Some habits are hard to break, I guess." she whispers.
"Dr. Freeride?" I ask quietly.
She just nods a little. I tighten my
hold on her, cursing the man that could have hurt her the way Dr. Freeride
did. We look out at the snow as it falls
on the White House lawn. In the past few
minutes I've been hearing some more movement in the bullpen, more phones
ringing, more people walking by. I have
a feeling things are about to pick up again.
I think Donna senses it too but she doesn't seem eager to move out of my
arms. Her reflection in the mirror tells
me she's trying to say something but can't quite get the words out.
"What?" I ask, turning my head towards her neck realizing how
easy it would be to kiss her.
"Do you think things have been different lately?"
"More questions, Donnatella?"
I tease, stalling for time.
"Yes."
"Different how?" I ask, going for oblivious but not coming close.
"Different between us. I mean,
since Christmas I've gotten this feeling that things aren't the same."
God, how do I respond to that? Do I
admit that after all these years I've finally realized I'm in love with
her? Is now the time or the
place...probably not. I've thought about
this moment a lot in the past 3 weeks and I haven't come up with the perfect
scenario, but I'm pretty sure this is not it.
"Josh."
Damn, I think I spent too much time thinking right there. "Things are different. Things are changing," I say quietly as I
release my arms from around her and she turns around to face me. She's not wearing shoes so we don't quite see
eye to eye. So I take a step back and
sit on the desk. Her hands are on my
shoulders and my hands are at her waist.
"Do you like the changes?" she asks as she moves one hand from my
shoulder and runs her fingers through my hopelessly messy hair.
"Yeah, I do."
"Me too. Josh, I think we need
to talk."
I nod in agreement, not trusting my voice to cooperate at the moment.
Donna cups my cheeks with her hands and takes a step closer. It's going to happen; she's going to kiss
me.
Damn. As usually happens, our perfect
moment is ruined by a ringing phone. I reach blindly for the receiver, not
breaking eye contact.
"Yeah, Charlie, we'll be there in a minute," I mutter as Donna
takes the phone from me and hangs it up properly. "The President wants us in the
Oval."
"Us, as in me too?" she asks with this adorable grin on her face.
"Yes, you too." I say as I move my hands from where I had put
them back on her waist. I try to stand
but her hands on my shoulders prevent me from moving.
She leans in and whispers in my ear, "Soon, we have to talk
soon." She kisses my cheek twice
and then moves towards my lips. Gently
she kisses me, lingering just a second longer than usual but it's enough to
cause me to jump a little. She giggles a
little and kisses my cheek once more before backing up. Smoothing my hair down she reminds me to
breathe. "I have to get a few
things. Meet me by my desk in a minute,"
she says as she glides out of the room.
"You look amazing," I say quietly as she turns around.
"I'm wearing your wrinkled tuxedo shirt and a pair of faded
jeans. Oh my God, I can't go into the
Oval Office looking like this," she cries as she opens my closet to see if
any clothes have magically appeared in there in the last half an hour.
"Yes, you can."
"No I can't. People will think
that we..." she stops short and turns bright red.
"They might. But more likely
they'll think I spilled something."
She dissolves into nervous laughter, "OK, but if they think that other
thing I'm telling the truth."
"Fine with me. But that other
thing, that wouldn't be so bad would it?" I ask with a sudden boldness
that came out of nowhere.
Donna stops dead in her tracks and turns around slowly, "No. In fact I'm sure it will be pretty
good." And she continues on to her
desk.
I wonder if she realizes what she said, **will** be good, not **would** be
good. But there's no time for more
questions. It's time for work.
The End
